Perception
by Divinations
Summary: Mikaela has a disturbing nightmare about something terrible happening to Sam. A companion piece to "Succumb to the Night".


Usual disclaimer: Don't own Transformers or the song lyrics, etc, etc.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by a nightmare I had not too long ago. It ties in with my earlier story "Succumb to the Night", so I'd recommend reading that first (if you haven't already) and then this-I think that will make this one easier to understand (hopefully).

_**Perception**_

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"_Feel your way through the darkness  
Just release the fears you left behind  
Find your soul in the sunrise  
Look around you can see it in their eyes  
Be as one together  
Rise up as the emptiness subsides…"_

_-'Perception' by Markus Schulz (feat. Justine Suissa)_

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I wander through the darkness, senses blind, totally lost in the nothingness. I'm not sure where I am or how I got here—but, inexplicably, I have a vague sense of familiarity. It's just the slightest of feelings, but I think that something I've previously encountered is lurking in the shadowy depths of this void, obscured from my view. It's that eerie sensation that I'm not alone that causes my steps to become more deliberate and my alertness to spike, with my ears straining for any sort of foreign sound. Despite the possible danger, I must continue on my way and hope to find some way out of this abyss. I walk around aimlessly for what seems like hours, but who knows how long it's actually been—time means nothing in this strange place.

Suddenly, two bright, blood red orbs, with centers so concentrated they glow white, emerge from the gloom, piercing the darkness with their intense rays of light. Involuntarily, I start to sweat, my skin begins to tingle and my hair stands on end. Those orbs…they almost seem like eyes, eyes I've seen before. My heart starts to pound furiously as my brain struggles to remember where I've seen these red objects before. They seem so familiar, yet I cannot associate them with anything. I know I recognize them, though, otherwise my body wouldn't be reacting to such a strong degree. Adrenaline surges through my veins, as if urging me try and escape these orbs, but I stand transfixed, drawn in by their silent Siren's call.

Shielding my eyes to try and protect them from the powerful blood-colored hues radiating throughout this empty black space, I gaze directly into the centers. I turn away almost instantly, my eyes burning and watering, as though I was looking right into the sun. The light is just too strong to be able to maintain a fixed gaze, but my curiosity won't subside. Swiping at my glassy eyes to clear them, I attempt another look, trying to gain some sense of comprehension or identification of what these orbs are, and where I've seen them before.

Preparing myself for the inevitable pain and brightness, I peer back at the red circles, and confusing, disjointed images streak throughout my consciousness. I can't be sure considering how fast these visions come and go, but I think I see one just clearly enough to decipher it—it's Sam lying motionless, his shirt in tatters, his skin slick with dark smears of blood, much like his near-death experience in the desert.

But my perception can't be right because he's alive. I know he is—I just saw him with my own two eyes a few hours ago during our webchat date, when I told him I was going to move to a place by his campus! _Wait_…a few hours ago? That could mean the images are…reality.

Panicking, I'm engulfed abruptly in crushing waves of loneliness, emptiness, and despair as the sight of him, broken and lifeless, reappears much clearer this time. The nauseating iron smell of the blood fills my nostrils, causing my stomach to turn. The acrid taste of bile and vomit that fills my throat is simply too much to handle, and I finally tear my gaze away from red orbs as I collapse and start to dry-heave, silently pleading for this torture to stop. Long moments pass as I remain hunched over on all fours, still gagging, with salty tears streaming down from my eyes.

Miraculously, my prayers are answered and the red orbs fade, causing the overwhelming sensations to dissolve. The adrenaline is gone too, leaving me utterly drained. My legs feel weak and unable to support my weight and my hands are shaking violently. A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead as I close my eyes, seeking to regain my equilibrium. My thoughts turn towards my safe place: Sam. Denial takes hold as I remember some of our good times, assuring myself that what the orbs showed me cannot possibly be true.

"I will take him from you," a deep, metallic voice whispers quietly, coming from somewhere unknown, its tone teasing, as though it takes great amusement or satisfaction from telling me this. "You cannot stop it—I will take him from you…"

That's when I wake up in my room, bolting upright from my bed, drenched in sweat, hyperventilating and totally hysterical. My pupils dilate in the darkness, trying to discern where I am and whether or not I'm still dreaming. Stricken, with watery eyes still wild and unseeing, I fumble desperately for my phone on my nightstand, needing to hear Sam's voice right now. I don't know or care what time it is—all that matters is that I get reassurance that he's alive and my nightmare isn't reality.

With trembling fingers, I finally manage to hit the green call button when Sam's name is highlighted on the bright display. Bringing my phone to my ear, I wait in silence, my heart pounding so fast it feels like a bomb set to explode, as the phone rings….

And rings…

And rings…

My pleas and prayers for him to pick up grow more fervent and frantic with each passing second, but my hopes begin to plummet, rapidly replaced by the horrifying realization that he may well be gone.

"Hello?" a muffled voice asks groggily, causing my heart to stop—it's Sam! He's safe! A cascade of relief floods through me, slowing my rapid heart rate and temporarily robbing me of the ability to speak. Yet again, tears sting the corners of my eyes, though for happier reasons this time. Comforted by his voice, I can imagine him in bed, face buried in his pillow, annoyed at being awoken.

"Hello?" he repeats, obviously confused at who would be calling him in the middle of the night.

"Hey…" I reply tentatively. "Sorry to be calling you so late but I—" Trailing off, I wonder whether I want to tell him about my dream. I know it's not healthy to keep fears bottled in and that Sam would want me to share things like this with him, but my pride and protectiveness hold out. He has enough burdens as is with college and the Decepticon threat; I don't want to add "girlfriend suffering from disturbing night terrors involving her boyfriend's death" to the list.

Plus, what good would telling him actually do? His comfort is empty if I can't actually internalize and believe his words. It would only get him concerned about me, added stress he doesn't need. My issues are purely psychological and I'm a tough girl—I can and will deal with this myself.

"Uh, 'Kaela? You still there?" Sam asks, his voice much more alert, as if sensing my still erratic mental state. I hear the rustling of sheets and I know he's probably sitting upright in bed, fully focused on the conversation now.

"Yeah, sorry. I just zoned out and forgot why I called you," It pains me to lie to him like this and I vow to tell him everything once I've stopped having nightmares.

"Oh, really? Why I don't I believe that?" I tense up at his statement, wondering if he somehow knows. I relax, though, as he continues, his voice filled with teasing amusement. "I bet you just wanted to hear my sexy voice but are too stubborn to admit it."

It's mean, but I laugh aloud at that, my mood lightening with his infectiously uplifting sense of humor.

"That's harsh 'Kaela. You can't even humor me that one time?"

"Nope, sorry. I wouldn't want your 'low self-esteem' to be at an 'all time high', now would I?" I taunt, playfully mocking his words from the day he left for college.

"...Calls me at four in the morning and then makes fun of me…" he grumbles.

"And now you're getting cranky! You really need to go back bed, babe."

"Well if someone would stop making fun of me, I could," he retorts, shades of annoyance creeping into his good-natured tone.

"Bye Sam. I love you," I respond smiling, attempting to sound innocent.

"Love you too." The line goes dead, and I place my phone back on my nightstand, all troubles temporarily forgotten. For now, I'll be able to sleep peacefully; tomorrow night, though, will be another battle…

.

_A few weeks later…_

My eyes open slowly, adjusting to the late morning light leaking through the blinds. I allow myself a moment to enjoy the comforting feeling of Sam's body pressed tightly against mine—it's certainly something I could get used to. Wiggling away slightly from Sam's tight grip, I glance over, still bleary eyed, at the clock and am shocked to see it's already past eleven—obviously I forgot to set an alarm last night in my post-orgasmic ecstasy. There goes our plan to start unpacking bright and early; though I can't say I'm too upset about how things worked out. Having some 'special fun time' with Sam well into the night is definitely more important—and satisfying—than waking up early to unpack.

Still, though, we should probably get on with our day; my boxes won't unpack themselves unfortunately. As I pull my elbow back to not too gently knock Sam in his ribs, I pause. A slow triumphant smile spreads across my face as I realize last night was the first time I've slept totally undisturbed in weeks. It looks as though I've finally won, just like I expected to. My nightmares and fearful perceptions are finally a thing of the past, and while I wanted to beat them on my own, I can't help but wonder how much of my victory is due to the sheer physical presence of the man sleeping peacefully next to me.

Suddenly, a sharp elbow to the ribs doesn't seem like such a good way to wake him up anymore—perhaps he deserves a method that's a bit more…special. Grinning, I lick my lips in anticipation and throw the sheet over my head as I slink downwards, towards the foot of the bed.


End file.
